I biked past a preschool the other day during recess and was amazed at how much squealing and squeaking I heard.
It’s crazy how much the future of America sounds like a gopher farm.
Time limits
Another coffee shop day.
On this occasion, a dad, mom and their two kiddos (the boy likely three, the girl obviously just started walking) walk into the shop. The little girl starts tottering around and the pacifier drops out of her mouth.
“Ooops, 30-second rule!” the dad hollers.
Obviously, this is his second kid.
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Pride and joy
So Mike and I planted these adorable baby trees the other day. And I, of course, have fallen in love with mine.
However, I now live in constant fear that I’m going to kill it accidentally.
Which makes me wonder … how the heck are people brave enough to have kids?
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Names I will not name my children*
Sure, it’s a free country, but I think that some lines should be drawn when it comes to bestowing a moniker on a tiny little human that he/she will have to live with for the rest of his/her life.
For example:
Brutus: Et tu? Too Shakespearean; also implies impending doom.
Astrid: The woman rode “astrid” a donkey. You don’t name your kid that.
Anything that is or sounds like it could be a candy bar.
Shithead: Sounds pretty until you write it out.
Anything that is or sounds like it could be an insect.
Uranus: Sure it’s a planet, and if you pronounce it one way, it has an attractive ring to it. If you don’t, then your kid is bound to be an ass … or at least called one.
Ultimately, I have no beef with people with any of these names. How could I? It’s their parents who should be reprimanded and whipped with a wet noodle.
*This is all, of course, assuming I do give birth someday; definitely not a certainty since I’m not married and I’m way too selfish with my personal time.